


Cleaning Lady

by dabs_into_oblivion



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabs_into_oblivion/pseuds/dabs_into_oblivion
Summary: Smiling at each other is all very well and good until everyone else leaves.
Relationships: Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon
Comments: 38
Kudos: 442





	1. Chapter 1

The door shuts behind Martha and Michael, the latter having promised he'd be back in time for supper. If Sophie were still an old woman, she would sit down, but she isn't used to having this much energy. She looks down at her hands in Howl's.

And Calcifer isn't in the grate! Sophie realizes with a kind of sinking feeling that this is the first time she and Howl have ever truly been alone. What if he only loves her because she said the first thing that popped into her head when she was under the curse? Has she gone back to being her old mousy self now?

Howl clears his throat. "You know, you can't sleep under the stairs anymore."

"No," she says hastily. "I'll sleep in my old room above the flower shop."

His grip tightens ever so slightly. "I can't have you too far away. You're still my cleaning lady, and Calcifer will miss you if he visits."

Sophie feels curiously light. "Calcifer will have to get used to it. Besides, you don't pay me to be your cleaning lady."

"Sophie," Howl says pleadingly.

"Why should I make this easy for you?" she asks, shaking her no-longer-grey hair out of her eyes, her hands gripping his like they're the only thing keeping her attached to the ground. "That isn't what I do."

He grins at her. "And honesty isn't what I do. But love is about making compromises."

Her stomach does a strange flip, and she misses half of what he says next.

"... I loved you even without my heart, and now that you've given it back to me I find that it's still not mine."

Sophie opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

Howl sighs, looking as though he wants to run a hand through his hair; but his hands stay in hers, and she feels -- so many things. She takes the tiniest step closer.

Of course, Michael would choose that moment to open the door.

~~~

She's washing the dishes when she feels his eyes on her.

"My bed is more than big enough for both of us."

She scrubs a little harder.

"Sophie, I won't touch you unless you ask me to."

She's going to wear a hole in the plate if he keeps going.

"Sophie." His hands are around hers, taking the plate and the sponge away, turning the tap off, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. His long, pretty fingers ghost over her cheeks, deftly flicking away the tears. "What's wrong?"

She hiccups. "You're confusing me. One moment you're flirting with me, the next you're ordering me around like I'm still cursed. If you want -- " she squeezes her eyes shut before continuing " -- something from me, you have to tell me. I can't read your mind."

"That implies we never flirted before." His voice is amused, sarcastic.

Her fingers curl into fists. "I was an old woman! It was different."

"I knew you weren't almost from the moment I saw you," he argues. "I just didn't know which young woman you were." A pause, then, "As I said before, I hoped you were you."

She is silent, her heart thumping not unpleasantly in her chest.

He takes her hands in his, drawing them into a chair. "I'll tell you how I feel if you tell me."

She sits upright. "That isn't fair! You already know -- you told me you counted on me being jealous of Miss Angorian!"

"I hoped you were." There's a note in his voice that Sophie has never heard before, and it frightens her. "But you took it upon yourself to _rescue_ her because you thought I loved her -- "

"You certainly acted like you were in love with her!" she scoffs. "Like the way you acted with Lettie!"

"Sophie, has it ever occurred to you that isn't the way I act when I'm in love?"

"Then how do you act?"

He smiles. "Like this. Fighting. With you."

Her voice is much softer when she asks, "How do I know you haven't got it the wrong way round?"

She can see the laughter there, fighting with all the other things he's feeling and struggling to put words to. He wraps an arm around her waist and says, "You could try trusting me."

She leans down into him, her arms sliding around his shoulders, a little shy. "You do know I love you, Howl?"

She will never get tired of his smile.

"That's the first time you've said it to me," he says, kissing the tip of her nose.

Undeterred, she continues before she has a chance to lose her nerve. "And despite fighting all the time -- or maybe because of it -- I do think we might be happy together."

His arm tightens, his eyes intent on her face.

She's the eldest. She isn't supposed to have a happily ever after, and she certainly isn't supposed to propose. She swallows. "How do you feel about weddings?"

"Never been to one," he drawls.

She should have realized he wouldn't make this easy.

"I -- " she begins. Clears her throat. Tries again. "I want to marry you. If you're amenable, that is. If not, forget I said anything."

He kisses her.

A very long time later, he whispers, "That's a yes, in case you were wondering."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie and Howl's wedding, predictably, does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a long time i didn't think i would write any more of this, but then i had this idea and it refused to leave my head, so enjoy!

"Martha!" gasps Sophie, hands in her hair, nightgown disheveled. "Where is my dress?"

"Lettie has it, doesn't she?" Martha brushes her hair out of her eyes and in doing so smears a trail of flour across her forehead. "Go away, Sophie, I'm baking."

"I thought you finished the wedding food," protests Sophie.

"I did. This is stress baking. Now _go,_ " insists her youngest sister, brandishing a whisk. "I don't think I shall ever get married after this!"

Michael chooses this moment to crash through the door, bellowing, "I can't find Howl!"

Sophie gives up trying to wrangle her hair into submission. "Don't be silly, Michael. Of course you can't find him. He doesn't want to be found."

This does not placate Michael, who drops into a chair with a sigh so heavy that Sophie feels her heart sinking along with it.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ she tells herself firmly as she stamps back upstairs to her room. _Howl wouldn't mind if you wore a potato sack to the wedding._ Still, she paces, twisting her hands and her hair and her nightgown and anything else she can reach until Lettie finally arrives with the dress. Unluckily for Sophie's nerves, Lettie also arrives with someone else.

"Really, my dear," Fanny says with brisk efficiency as she deftly tugs and twists Sophie's hair into something more presentable, "there's no sense in getting yourself worked up."

Sophie wants to snap at her. Surely today of all days, she should be allowed to be as anxious as she wants? She wonders if people will ever stop wanting things from her, wanting her to be their version of her instead of her own.

Example: the dress.

In theory, initially, it had been her idea. But somewhere along the line Fanny and Lettie had taken it and made it something else entirely, and by the time Sophie found out about this, it was too late to change anything. And Howl gets to wear one of his suits! The whole thing is so unfair.

Suddenly, she has an idea.

She slips the dress off and leaves it in a pile on the floor. "Change of plan," she explains to a protesting Fanny, and off she goes in search of her target.

It isn't hard to find, even less so to alter to her specifications, and once she's finished she feels infinitely better.

"Right," she announces, arriving in the kitchen doorway, "I'm ready."

Martha looks up and her eyebrows shoot into her hairline.

Michael is grinning. "Fanny," he calls, "no need to worry. Sophie looks perfect."

"Nonsense, silly girl, she refused to wear the dress we had made for her --" Fanny bustles into the kitchen, takes one look at Sophie, and reverses her course, muttering, "I wash my hands of her, I do!"

Lettie slips in beside Sophie and takes her arm. "Let's get you married."

Sophie has never cried from nerves before. She's the eldest; she's not meant to do that. But she seems to have done a lot of things that the eldest isn't meant to do, and as the carriage pulls up in front of the mansion where she is to be married, she presses the ends of her sleeves to the corners of her eyes, soaking up the wetness there.

Lettie squeezes her hand. "He really does love you, you know."

Sophie sniffles.

"Those times when he came to visit me, he asked about you. He flirted with me, but it was almost mechanical, like he'd forgotten any other way to act with a young lady. Every time we talked about you, he was completely different. And when you broke the curse..." Lettie swallows. "No one, no one has ever looked at me the way he was looking at you then."

"Lettie," sobs Sophie, "I can't -- I don't want to think about how much he loves me. It's too much."

"What do you mean?"

"He's such a _bastard_ , and if I think too hard about the good parts, it'll prevent me from telling him off when he needs it. And, Lettie, he needs it a lot."

Lettie smiles. "Then it's good he has you to keep him in check."

Sophie almost says, _What if I don't love him enough?_ but it's too late. The door is open, Lettie is stepping out and reaching back to help her sister out of the carriage. Sophie takes a deep breath and follows.

Howl's eyes widen at the sight of her in his suit. When he kisses her, it's as if he's enveloping her in his arms, and she melts just a little. After, when everyone else has gone home and they're walking hand in hand back to their moving castle, she says, "I quarrel with you because I love you."

He glances at her, and she almost cries again at the expression in his eyes. "I know." He lifts her hand to his lips. "I wouldn't have married you if I didn't trust you to keep me mostly out of trouble."

"Or to fix the trouble you get yourself into," she retorts, but she allows him to draw her into his arms, and she thinks it's all right, really, to love him so much that she forgets to breathe, because she can still manage this.

His breath is warm on her neck as he whispers, "Sophie, you are all the trouble I will ever want."

-FIN-


End file.
